Give me Therapy
by Demisbitch
Summary: I'm not the most open person who shares their feelings, but maybe she could change me. Oneshot. Demi and Selena. Mitchie and Alex.
1. Chapter 1

**I just write this, for no reason. To be honest. Instead of doing my Economics homework, I'm doing this - lol.**

**I was listening to 'Therapy' by All Time Low, a song I adore. I recommend you check it out, it will explain this story better. But don;'t just listen to it, understand the lyrics. **

**This story is different from anything I've done, as this is my experience. My life, my secrets. Guess they aren't so secret now, huh?**

**A little insight to the writer, aka Me. This is all me, except for one thing..if I met Mitchie Torres aka Demi - I would die.**

**Enoy, and please review.**

I wonder would it help. I mean, it can't hurt...that much.

I wonder how much they actually keep private and how much they tell...I just didn't know. It would probably feel good you know, get things off my chest and stuff.

It was my 5th year in senior school, and I only had three years left. Pressure was mounted on this year, with teachers saying stuff like '86% of last year's students passed their subjects with a C's up to A's'. They told us of how this year would go fast, and how this decided our future.

When my brother passed away when I was in my 1st year, I had definitely changed. I didn't know what suicide was, and I had never experienced it before. But now, I fully understand. An undeveloped, immature mind did not know the impact at what happened. I understood that things would change, that my life would change – but I never guessed I would have changed.

I don't know whether I changed for the worst, or for the best. I first entered first year with the splitting of my parents, loss of contact with my dad due to the split and then after a while, my brother's death. So at my mere age I have experienced more than most teenagers. Not to sound cliché, but I didn't know how to deal with that. Cutting would suffice, and extreme throwing up. Bulimia? Maybe, but it wasn't a bad case. I guess that's what all people like me all say, we never want to say our problems solely for the fact that there is someone out there going through far worse.

I understand now how someone could do suicide, how they feel so bad that they take death into their own hands. I understand. But, I wish I didn't.

I had my two other brothers, older sister, young brother and young sister to keep my mind occupied sometimes. But, as I went through school and my first ever relationship – which ended in disaster, it finally hit home for me that life fucking sucked.

What made it worse at the time was the whole sexuality thing, confused feelings but wanting to change – to be normal kept clouding my mind. I don't think it's pretty normal (or maybe I am wrong) to have a longer list of hot female celebrities than male, but in today's music and acting industry – there is more successful women, so I guess it's down to choice of numbers.

Music. The power of it, is so amazing.

The sole thing that kept me sane, and kept my focus off other stuff. My interest in a specific celebrity group grew, they included Jess Origliasso, Hayley Williams, Alex Gaskarth, Shay Mitchell, Naya Rivera, Taylor Momsen, Julia Pierce, Andy Biersack or Andy Sixx, Kelly Clarkson and mostly obviously: Demi Lovato. To this very day, I know how much I annoy my friends with constant updates of her latest adventures, or fangirling over her voice in certain songs and sometimes, just sometimes, her beautiful smile and eyes. Obsessed is what it is classed as, but how can you explain how someone can mean so much to you, when they simply don't understand?

To them, she is just another 'Disney Princess' gone wrong. But did she really go wrong? I don't think so. She only got better, got stronger, more influential and mostly; got healthier.

Anyway, the whole point I'm telling you this stupid stuff is because I'm sitting in an office, waiting for my appointment time. I decided little over a week ago I would go see a therapist, or as some call it, a 'shrink'. I don't believe in therapy at all in the slightest, I believe it's false but I don't disrespect anyone else who has visited them. My phone was flashing letting me know I had a message. I opened the message to see the group chat my friends were in was flying messages everywhere, they were all completely oblivious to what I was about to do.

I locked my phone again and decided to ignore the messages and plug in my headphones anyway. As I was completely in awe to the lyrics that filled my headphones, I glanced to the side to see a girl there who I didn't see before. She was wearing something similar to me. Converse, skinny jeans and a concert t-shirt. Of course, as she was sitting down, I couldn't see which one. I made a mental note to check once she stood up.

Her phone rung and she groaned, and looked over towards me as my curious eyes looked into her brown ones. She done a slight smile and I looked away, embarrassed she had caught me looking. She was talking like nothing ordinary on the phone, before she seemed to get annoyed at the person on the other side of the phone.

'Eugh Miley, don't call me Michelle. You know I like to be called Mitchie.'

Ah, so Miley must have been calling Mitchie Michelle...even that thought confused me. Miley must have said something smart back, as she dramatically hung up. I smirked slightly as I remembered the similarity to my friends calling me by my real name, Alexandra. Most annoying thing ever.

When I looked up she was looking at me, probably wondering what I was smirking at.

No words were spoken, but the air and room was screaming volumes.

Suddenly, she got up from her seat and walked over to the water cooler – took a cup, filled it and sat back down. I looked at her shirt and it read, 'Paramore'. Internally I leapt as I finally found someone my age who listened to the same music, very hard to find in fact. On the outside, I was cool. I didn't even notice I kept looking at her shirt, until she coughed probably from drinking the water too quick. Quite shocked I was, she must have caught me looking at thought I was checking out her boobs – great. Although, it turns out Hayley was right on point printed with her boobs.

I wondered random things that came to mind before my name was called out, 'Alexandra Russo'.

Cringed at my name, I got up and walked past Mitchie. She definitely knew my name now; maybe I would see her at my next appointment.

I was never an open person, but when my mom collected me in the car and we were going through the streets; I thought of how I had a connection with Mitchie, near immediately. She seemed special, unique even. Maybe I could be open with her. Because let's face it, she was something else. Mitchie. I would see her soon.

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_**LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**This is so fun to write, I swear. **

**Anyway, it had a good response which made me happy :) See that's my lil techno smile!**

**Suefanficlover - Thank you! Your review was one of the main reasons I continued it, thank you again :) x**

**its-ok-to-hate-me - Dude All Time Low is fucking fantastic aren't they? I'm glad you can relate, I really am! You should share your writing, I would love to read it ;) It was hard to post, but I shut my eyes and then there it was! And yes I did continue it, I might write another chapter after this - but who knows? Thank you :)**

The appointment wasn't that bad, just general stuff. She attempted to ask me questions, but I was quite arrogant in the way I answered them. One or two word answers would just have to suffice. However, I think I knew deep down I wasn't helping myself with not helping her, so I promised myself that over the course of this therapy: each time I would talk more and give her structured answers, I mean, it will help me in the end, won't it?

The room was eerie the first time I went in, and was very...white. It was stripped, and my mind couldn't help but not think that maybe I will be like these walls at the end – emotionally stripped down, just plain and simple. That's how I wanted to be: Understandable.

When I came out of my appointment, Mitchie wasn't there.

I looked forward to my next appointment and I prepared myself for it. I collected my thoughts, and decided I was ready to sort-of communicate with my therapist. Again I found myself sat in the therapist office, waiting for my appointment time. The times always ran over each other, but I didn't mind. I'm unsure whether the reason was because I had my phone full of music to listen to, or that I was waiting for Mitchie to come.

_I'm gonna break your little heart, watch you take the fall, laughing all the way to the hospital, 'cause there's nothing surgery can do_

I was embarrassingly singing lyrics before Mitchie walked in; she giggled at my terrible, terrible voice and sat across from me. I was still slightly shy towards her. She just wore leggings and a plain white tshirts with a pocket, but she still looked amazing to me. She probably thought I was weird with the whole music thing, but she seemed quite similar to me in a way.

'Hi' she spoke, but I couldn't hear her through my headphones.

I took them out, 'Sorry what?'

'Oh I didn't realise both were in, I said Hi'

'Why Hello to you too' I smiled back.

'So, how long have you been coming to the shrink for?'

I knew it; she had the exact same attitude as me. 'This is actually only my second appointment. How about you? You seem used to her'

'I come here since a year ago; they all know me personally here. I first came because I was forced, but after a while, it felt good to actually have someone listening to me'

'Yeah I know how you feel'

She nodded, but still looked at me.

'Your names Alexandra, right? But I bet you like to be called Alex?' I nodded. 'Same as me, I'm Michelle but my dad calls me that...so I hate it. Call me Mitchie. Maybe we should go out sometime for Coffee, or even for a walk, if you're up to it of course.'

'Yeah I would love that! Is today okay for you? It's just, who knows if I will ever come back here'

'Sure. I'll let Miley know, I'll wait out in here when you come out. My sessions normally end quicker as I have been coming here longer, so she knows what we need to talk about and what not to talk about'

Now I couldn't wait till my appointment is over.

I went in, and was more willing to talk. Although I still kept my wall up, it wasn't as high as it usually was. We had discussed my position in school, and if I was happy and stuff. She thought it was better to start with lighter stuff, then into heavier stuff. But I needed to learn how to trust her first. After school position, we talked about my friend situation. I tried to explain, and she said that would be an area we would do some work in. She listened to me, and sometimes taking notes – but I didn't mind. I said how I felt, and how I saw them in my life. We had only done one more topic before I left, and that was music.

She probably noticed all my bracelets, and asked me my opinion on certain stuff. I told her my interest, and how I was always judged for my tastes. So I kept most bands I liked to myself. She agreed with me, and we even had a heart to heart about My Chemical Romance splitting – of which we were both heartbroken about.

I came out of the room a bit happier, it still didn't feel like anything had changed but it felt like progress. I told her certain things without closing up, or changing the subject. I wasn't smiling wide, but I wasn't frowning. I walked back into the waiting room and met Mitchie. I nodded at her and we both made our way down the building and out. I didn't know the area too well, but she did so we went to a nice little bistro.

I ordered a Hot Chocolate, and she ordered a skinny latte before we sat down. We sat in a booth which was kind of boxed around, to get away from the ones who worked there. There was also another reason.

Mitchie had slight social anxiety, something she didn't realise until she was 17 and was at formal or prom as some call it. She had been a confident person, never nervous or anything. Well, that's what she thought. She thought it was ok to be slightly nervous, even to the point where you feel yourself hallucinating. Now, she was 18 and had gone through a lot of stuff.

As a child, she was bullied. Although she had a loving family, school properly 'fucked her up'. She said the start of high school wasn't any better, but once she hit her third year in – she found it manageable. She was never really close with anyone, but had good enough friends. She liked a different range of musicians, and she had experimented with drugs a little bit. She didn't drink, but from time to time smoke. She was still finding her sexuality out, but was more than sure she was lesbian. But since she wasn't out of the closet, she didn't date anyone.

I found out a lot from her in a short time, and she asked about me.

I explained to her my problem of talking to people, and trouble expressing myself. She said she totally understood, and she said she was proud at how honest I was to my therapist. And that she was only ready by her 10th appointment, so she knew I would do great in my recovery. She told me how she thought I was cute at the start, and said she was sorry.

When I asked her what she was sorry for, she lifted my wrist and pulled off my bracelets. She said she was sorry that no-one was there for me, and that I felt so much pain I had to hurt myself to express it. That meant a lot to me, and I thought it was something that only existed in stupid stories – but I can assure you, it does not.

I felt so comfortable, around someone I had only met 10 minutes ago. When it was time to go, I took her number, hugged her and went on with my day.

I thought of how good my next appointment would be, and how glamorous recovery now seems. I guess, I like Therapy.

Because of her.


End file.
